


Make a Move

by plingo_kat



Category: Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:22:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plingo_kat/pseuds/plingo_kat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s never seen that before. Never witnessed Clu anything but smooth and polished and perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make a Move

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm back in Tron fandom. I actually wrote this AGES ago, but I can't remember where I was going with it so I touched it up and posted it.

Sam doesn’t understand exactly how much power holding a program’s disc gives him until one day Clu is doing his normal looming brooding thing (no, seriously, if he had any moral sense whatsoever Sam would totally nickname him ‘Batman’) and Sam swipes his disc. Clu whirls around immediately, of course, snarling an oath, but Sam has already skipped a step back and ran his fingers over the bright orange ring, bringing data up to hover in the air, and because he isn’t stupid he’s watching Clu instead of his own hand. Which is how he notices the tiny falter in Clu’s steps, the full-body twitch that the program can’t quite suppress.

He’s never seen that before. Never witnessed Clu anything but smooth and polished and perfect.

Another brush of fingers grants Sam a low, stifled grunt. Clu has stopped advancing, breathing hard. The program is glaring so viciously at Sam that he’s surprised lasers don’t come out of his eyes and disintegrate him where he stands. He flexes his fingers. Clu shudders again.

“Hey,” says Sam, and the word comes out low, rough. Husky. “How you doin’?”

“Give me that back,” growls Clu, shoulders stiff and hands fisted at his sides. “ _Now._ ”

“Oh, I don’t know,” says Sam, running a finger along the edge of the glowing inner stripe of his disc. Clu’s head tips back, tendons visible in the skin under his neck. “I can think of a few things I’d like to ask for. You know. While I’m here.” He’s pushing his luck, but he doesn’t care; it’s like crashing Encom events all over again, adrenaline lighting up his nerves and making everything brighter, clearer, sharper. He grins.

“What do you think, Clu?”

He doesn’t get a coherent reply, just a wordless snarl as Clu lunges. Sam backpedals fast, but not fast enough; an impact strikes his chest and then the wind is knocked out of him as his back hits the floor.

His grip on Clu’s disc doesn’t falter though, and he arches his back and stretches his arm out to keep it out of the program’s reach. Clu’s eyes narrow. The two of them are pressed chest to chest, the heat of Clu’s circuits seeping through Sam’s suit to sink into his skin.

“You have no idea what the consequences of your actions will be,” Clu threatens. 

“Can I guess?” Sam quips, fluttering his fingers a little, rippling them around the disc in his hand. Clu shudders, head tilting back, and suddenly Sam _gets it_ \--

None of the reactions from before were from discomfort or unease, they were from _pleasure_.

Sam nearly lets go out of shock, but Clu growls and he snaps out of it, straining to keep the orange disc out of reach.

“If you think,” he says, voice breathy, “that I’m just going to give up this advantage--” Clu hisses as he ripples his fingers again. “You’re crazy.” He bucks upwards sharply, trying to flip them, but Clu is stronger and has better leverage. All Sam does is bring their bodies together, and jesus fuck that is definitely a bulge pressing into Sam’s hip.

Clu must sense how freaked out that makes him, because he pulls back a little and smirks. There’s a nasty glint in his eye Sam doesn’t like.

“Biting off more than you can chew?” he says, voice a rumbling purr. “ _Sam?_ ”

And yes, that does send a shiver through Sam, no matter that the man on top of him wears his father’s face, no matter that he’s more than a little dangerous, or even what some might call _evil_. Sam has been around Clu long enough to know things about his character; that he really does care for the Grid (and by extension, those who live in it), that he’s ruthless in obtaining his goals but can be gentle when the situation calls for it, that he’s possibly the most powerful entity Sam has ever met.

Sam has always been attracted to power. Control.

But he isn’t going to just submit. His relationship with Clu is one of conflict, a constant push-pull for dominance, and he intends to be the last one standing, the one on top in the end.

“Never,” he promises, staring up at the shadow of Clu’s chin where it joins his neck, the reflected yellow light of circuits off barely-there stubble. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the one twitching when I move my fingers like this--”

Clu arches, hissing, and Sam uses that lapse in concentration to grasp a handful of hair and jerk Clu’s head back, rolling so that he’s straddling the program’s hips, triumphant.

“What were you saying?” Smug.

Clu glares, but doesn't speak. He's too busy clenching his jaw as Sam runs a finger over the yellow ring of light on Clu's disc. He can see the muscles bunching under Clu's skin, tendons standing out in stark relief along his neck.

"You never see me," Sam murmurs. "You _underestimate_ me. Not a good policy, Clu."

All he gets in response is a hiss, and hips pressing up the slightest bit as Clu's back lifts off the floor. Light is flickering in the program's eyes, little stuttering flashes of yellow like a fitfully sparking wire. Sam widens his stance to sit more securely on him and uses the movement to rub his ass all along the front of Clu's groin, grinning at the reaction that produces, a tipping of the chin up and back, brows furrowed.

It's rare for Sam to have the upper hand in their encounters, and he's not above using any weapon he has at his disposal -- even this one. Clu isn't his father, as he's proved time and time again. And Sam, well, Sam isn't all that great of a son, to be honest.

He rubs a thumb up and down the ring of hard plastic in one hand and leans down to nip at the exposed skin of Clu's neck. There isn't a lot to work with, and for a frustrated instant Sam tugs at material that isn't cloth but can't be called anything else. Then suddenly there's give under his fingers, and when Sam turns his head to look black pixels are flaking away to reveal tanned skin. For a moment he wonders how that’s possible, with no sunlight in the Grid, but then Clu is struggling again, bucking up to fight against his hold.

Sam sits back. This isn’t going to work; he can’t hold Clu down and fuck him at the same time. His only advantage is Clu’s disc.

The disc...

He brings it up close to his face, examining it closely. There’s no difference that he can see from his own identity disc except for the color of their circuits. A glance at Clu reveals that he’s breathing hard but is starting to look like he’s able to think again, and Sam doesn’t stop to contemplate what he’s about to do, he just _reacts_.

He licks a solid stripe along the glowing yellow curve of Clu’s disc.

It doesn’t taste like much of anything. There’s no sensation of electricity, no sharp tang of ozone. Just cool plastic under his tongue.

Which makes Clu’s reaction entirely disproportionate: the program gives a stifled grunt and all but convulses, heels pressing hard into the floor. Sam is nearly thrown off.

Clu is _absolutely_ not thinking about stopping him anymore.


End file.
